“I am going with him,” Garren said, stepping forward.
Alden looked at Garren in surprise. He had been so caught up with seeing Merton again that he didn’t take any notice of who Merton was travelling with. His gaze caught Sampson’s briefly, but he did not acknowledge him. Yrre and Eadger stood back slightly away from the group.
“The two of you are going to Brittany, together?” Alden shook his head, anger in his face at being so blatantly disobeyed. “Yrre, I told you that under no circumstances was Garren to know—”
“It wasn’t Yrre’s fault. He didn’t tell me anything,” Garren insisted. “I found out Galahad was alive from someone else, and I demanded to help in the search for him.”
“Who told you? Budic?” Alden demanded to know.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“I think it does,” Alden insisted. What was the old saying? If three knew it wasn’t a secret. One little slip, one wrong word and Merton would be back where he started. He would be a hunted man with a price on his head. There were those willing enough to take on all of the du Lacs for a bag of coins, or to win Mordred’s favour. “Because whoever told you disobeyed me, and I will not tolerate that.”
“I am going to Brittany,” Merton said again. “I must avenge her. Surely you of all people can understand that?”
“I can understand where you are coming from,” Alden said cautiously, as he wondered how much Merton had told Garren about Amandine. “And you know I would stand with you in your revenge. But, you are not ready to go into battle.”
“I am as ready as I am ever going to be. Don’t try to stop me,” Merton warned quietly. “Because I am going to Brittany whether you like it or not.”
“We will talk on this some more,” Alden said, it was then that he noticed Josephine. He did a double-take, not quite believing what he was seeing.
“I thought I banished you?” Alden said, his voice turning hard. “Both of you for that matter,” he looked at Garren then. “What right do you have to show your faces here?”
Josephine shrunk under Alden’s scrutiny and hid behind Garren, using his body as a kind of shield against Alden’s accusing gaze.
“She is with me,” Garren stated. “I have offered her my protection.”
“Protection from what?” Alden spat the words out.
“Budic.”
“Budic?” Alden repeated their brother’s name with scorn. “Did you agree to this?” he asked Merton.
“The Josephine bit was thrown at me,” Merton stated with a scowl. “But Garren is convinced that her life is in danger and from what I have heard, I tend to agree with him. He was right to get her out of there. Budic is bitter and angry. He wants someone to blame. When he was here, he blamed you, but when you banished him, he only had Josephine to take his anger out on.”
Alden saw the way Josephine peeked out from behind Garren to look at Merton. The expression on her face was one of wonder, and it concerned Alden greatly. He didn’t trust Josephine. There was something about her, something sly. But, she had always favoured Merton. She had always loved him, and for a while, Alden had thought the two of them would have made a good marriage. And yet now, he knew that Merton was right to stay away from her.
“This is a bad idea,” Alden said, looking at Merton as he spoke.
“It will be fine,” Annis said with compassion, stepping forward and taking Josephine’s hand, while she smiled a welcome.
Alden immediately pulled his wife back and away from Josephine. Annis was too compassionate for her own good. Too forgiving. There was no way in Hell he was going to let Josephine anywhere near his Queen or his children.
“I don’t trust you,” Alden said, not bothering to dress up his words with anything but the truth. “You have to prove yourself to me, Josephine, and until then, you are responsible for her,” he glanced at Garren as he spoke. “If she steps out of line, it will be on your head.”
“I won’t leave the chamber, or Hall, or wherever else you see fit to put me, Sire,” Josephine said, her voice and face appeared sincere.
“She will stay with me,” Garren stated. “That is if I am allowed to stay too? I swear to you Alden, I mean you and your kingdom no harm.” Garren unsheathed his knife and stepped forward.
Alden’s frowned deepened as Garren fell to his knees and held the knife out in front of him. The tip of the blade pointed to the earth, and Garren bowed his head as he paid homage.
“We are brothers,” Garren said, he raised his head and looked up at Alden, “but you are my king, and I honour you as such. I will fight by your side in all things, and if need be, I will die by it too. I am your most humble servant. And I hope that one day we will recover what once was between us and you will look on me as not only a subject and your brother, but also your friend.”
Alden looked away from Garren for a moment and breathed the morning air deeply. His gaze caught Merton’s, and he silently asked his brother what he should do.
“He may pledge his loyalty, but I may be of a mind to cut your throat in your sleep,” Merton added unhelpfully. Merton knew full well what Alden silently asked and yet, decided to go with this answer, anyway.
Alden scoffed, and Annis stepped forward and punched Merton on the arm. Merton winced and then, dropping his stick, he gathered Annis up to his chest. “And then I will put your Queen over my shoulder, run out of Dor, find a barn and have my way with her.” He kissed her smartly on the mouth. “We will have two dozen children and three hundred grandchildren.”
“Stop it,” Annis giggled, her face as red as freshly pulled up summer beet as she tried to avoid another one of his kisses.
“That’s a lot of children and a lot of names to remember,” Garren pointed out from his position on the floor. He was slightly taken back by Merton’s manhandling of the Queen and Alden’s apparent lack of concern at seeing Merton take such liberties.
“And two thousand great-grandchildren,” Annis added, getting into the spirit of things. “And not one of them will be able to dance,” she giggled, especially when she saw Merton’s wounded expression at her mockery of his dancing abilities.
Alden saw all of this and more. He saw the longing on Josephine’s face when Merton gathered Annis up into his arms. And he saw Josephine look away when Merton kissed her. He would bet his life, that despite being married to his brother, Josephine still had feelings for Merton and she always would.
“Mert…”Alden stopped himself from saying his brother’s name. He wished it didn’t have to be like this, but it did. “Galahad,” he tried again, “put my wife down before somebody sees. And you,” he looked down at Garren and held out his hand. Garren took it, and Alden pulled him to his feet. “Don’t make me regret this,” Alden stated.
“You won’t,” Garren promised.
29
Alden looked on as Santo, the Royal Healer, examined Merton’s back. They were in Alden’s chamber, a place Alden rarely visited. Alden had never slept in the bed that Merton was stood against. Alden slept with Annis, in her chamber. This room was just a formality. For now, Merton could stay here, and sleep in this bed. After all, Alden had no use for it.
Alden had already drawn his knights aside. Some had already been taken into Alden’s confidence, for they were there on the beach that cursed day to welcome their King and his brothers back from Hell. The others had now also pledged to keep Merton a secret. A few had addressed concerns about how practical that was going to be. At some point, word would get back to Mordred and Wessex that Merton still breathed and when that happened…
Alden asked himself, there and then, as he watched Santo trace the outline of Merton’s crooked spine, just how much he was willing to risk to keep his brother safe. Merton, by his own admission, had no intention of staying locked away inside a monastery. Alden realised it wasn’t fair to expect him to do so. It would be like caging a wild animal. It would be unbearably cruel.
Santo glanced his way, and the look he gave Alden did not inspire confid
ence. Alden didn’t know much about the art of healing, but he knew enough. He didn’t need a healer to tell him what was right before his eyes. There was no way that Merton could ever be the warrior he was. Merton’s declaration that he was going back to Brittany to avenge Amandine was nothing but a dream. Merton wasn’t going anywhere.
“You can put your tunic back on,” Santo said, a frown upon his brow. “I have seen all I need to see.”
And so had Alden. Merton was a cripple, even without the loss of his arm. There were no two ways about it. The evidence was there, right in front of him and it was condemning. Alden rubbed his hand across his face and swore softly under his breath. Merton, with his tunic in his hand, turned to look at the healer. “Is it as bad as the Druid said?” There was a thin strand of hope in his words, and Alden found that he could not bring himself to look at his brother.
Santo coughed, clearing his throat, and nodded reluctantly. “It is a rare condition. I have only seen it the once, and that was in a child. The said child caught a fever and died not long after I saw him, which doesn’t help us, does it? Have either of you ever noticed the spine curving before?”
“No.”
“Yes,” Alden contradicted Merton. The look Merton gave him almost stopped his heart. It was one of loathing. ‘I mean…”
“I need the truth,” Santo insisted.
“You always had a slight curve, you know that as well as I,” Alden said as he looked at his brother.
“That was only because I favoured the right. I didn’t train equally on both sides,” Merton argued. “It is a common problem in knights.”
“When did you first notice it?” Santo directed his question at Alden.
“I don’t know. When he was twelve, maybe…”
“Did you tell anyone?” Santo asked.
“I didn’t think it was a problem. He didn’t complain that it hurt.”
“Have you had any pain from your back in the last couple of years?” Santo asked, looking at Merton again.
“Yes,” Merton admitted unwillingly. “But I thought it was… I am a mercenary. Conditions are harsh, we all get the odd aches and pains.”
“You think this is something he was born with then, not something Philippe did?” Alden asked.
“I do,” Santo confirmed. “This isn’t something a beating would have done, although that certainly didn’t help. I would be lying to you, my Lord,” he addressed Merton, “if I said I wasn’t concerned about the severity of it.”
“Is there anything you can do?” Alden asked, glancing at Merton again and this time he saw a resigned expression on his brother’s face. “Can you reverse it?”
“Once curved, the spine cannot be straightened. It can’t be mended like a broken bone. I need to think about this some more. Maybe there is a way we can support it. Stop it getting worse,” Santo shook his head. “I don’t have the answers that you want, Sire. I am sorry but when we are dealing with deformities…”
Both Alden and Merton winced at the healer’s choice of words.
“…there isn’t an awful lot anyone can do. I am deeply sorry, Merton. After everything you have been through, this doesn’t seem fair.”
“Perhaps it is,” Merton said with a hopeless shrug. “Perhaps this is my penance for all the lives I took. A fitting revenge from God.”
“You cannot think like that,” Alden argued, his heart breaking for his brother.
“Why not?” Merton asked. “I deserve to be like this.”
“Leave us,” Alden ordered Santo.
“I will, but just one more thing. The pain relief that the Druid gave you…do you have any idea what is in it?”
“Yes,” Merton said without any enthusiasm. He tipped out the contents of his purse onto the bed and handed Santo a piece of yellowed, scrunched up parchment. “I don’t know if you can decipher it, my spelling isn’t the best, and I used to write with my right hand, not that I was any good at it then.”
Santo glanced down at the parchment, narrowing his eyes as he tried to read Merton’s messy scrawl. Some of the letters were written backwards, and as Merton said, the spelling was atrocious.
“It is a basic recipe,” Santo said, scratching his head. “I have everything we need. You said she also gave you a sleeping tonic.”
“She gave me a strong dose of valerian. I cannot sleep without it.”
“And you said heat helps?”
“Yes,” Merton sighed and turned his back on the healer, and Alden, once again, could see the curve.
“There is a few other things I would like to try,” Santo continued. “I cannot promise to make you pain-free, but even if there is a slight improvement, then that is something. I will leave you to it. Sire, my Lord,” Santo bowed and prepared to leave.
“Am I…” Merton turned and caught Alden’s gaze. “Is this…How long…” Merton bit his lip, and the expression on his face was that of a condemned man waiting for his torturer to return.
“How long will it be before he is unable to walk?” Alden asked the question that Merton wanted to ask, but had difficulty delivering.
“It may never come to that,” Santo reassured. “Galahad, try not to over think. Let us take one day at a time. Let me help you get the pain under control. Your Druid has done a lot to help you. I can see that. I am positive I can do more. I just need time.”
“Thank you, Santo,” Alden said.
When the door closed behind Santo, Alden pulled up a chair. “Sit down,” he said as he pulled up another chair and sat down upon it.
Merton struggled back into his tunic and then took the offered seat.
“I am going to Brittany,” Merton stated, his face determined.
Alden hated to be the one to quash Merton’s need for revenge, but someone had to. “No, you are not,” Alden stated. “Not if you want to live.”
“Who said anything about me wanting to live?” Merton asked, a touch of anger in his voice.
“You don’t mean that,” Alden stated quietly. “I know you don’t.”
“Don’t I?” Merton asked challengingly.
“No. You want to live. You want to marry, settle down, have more children and live the rest of your life in peace. I can see that future for you. This is your chance, don’t you see? You can be anyone you want now. You can start again.”
“This idyllic future you describe is your destiny,” Merton said simply. “It was never destined to be mine. I can see that now. And likewise, I cannot be someone I am not. I am the Devil. I deserve this, and Tanick is better off without me.”
“The Devil is dead,” Alden contradicted. “He died at Benwick. And I wholeheartedly disagree with you about Tanick. Tanick isn’t better off without you. He needs you. He needs his father.”
“What does he need me for? I can’t exactly run after him. I can’t teach him how to use a sword or do anything that a father would do.”
“There is more to being a father than that,” Alden argued. “Being there for him, loving him, that is more important than anything else. He is going to feel as if you abandoned him, do you really want that?”
Merton sighed long and deeply, but he didn’t answer Alden’s question.
“Merton, I feel for you, I do. But you must not let what happened in Brittany rule the rest of your life. You must put it behind you, move on, forget.”
“Are you telling me to forget Amandine?” Merton snapped.
“Don’t twist my words. That is not what I said. But while we are on the subject of love, I do believe that one day you will experience real love. You are not destined to live a life alone.”
“I had real love with Amandine.” Merton shook his head. “There will never be another woman for me.”
“You don’t know that,” Alden contradicted. “Five years, ten years time, things will be different, and this…this grief, will be behind you.”
“In five years time, I could be bedridden.”
“Not once did Santo say that,” Alden stated. “Don’t imagine
a future for yourself based on assumptions.”
“And yet it is fine for you to do so,” Merton jeered. “What if Annis died?”
“Don’t,” Alden warned, for he would not tempt fate.
“If Annis died, would you take another woman to your bed?” Merton asked. “Well, would you?” Merton asked again when Alden didn’t answer. “What about in five years, ten?”
Alden closed his eyes briefly, for he knew there would never be another woman for him. “We are not talking about me. We are talking about you.”
“And what is that supposed to mean? Do you think I didn’t love Amandine as much as you love Annis? Did you think that what I felt for her was a passing fancy?”
“I think it would have blown itself out. As all your affairs do,” Alden hadn’t meant to say that, and if he could, he would have taken the words back immediately.
“At least I know how low your opinion is of me,” Merton stated, his voice brittle.
“Galahad…I didn’t mean it that way. The words came out wrong.”
“Do you really think I would have let Philippe do this to me if all I felt for Amandine was a passing fancy?” Merton asked, his voice quiet.
“No,” Alden replied. “Yes. I don’t know.”
“I was called The Devil because I was ruthless,” Merton stated, his voice low. “I locked an entire village in a barn and set fire to it. I killed my wife.”
“Adèl’s death was a tragic accident,” Alden countered. “And you had no choice about rounding those villagers up and putting them in that barn.”
“I would have chosen death for Adèl, just like I chose death for those villagers,” Merton said. “I would have plunged my sword into her black heart—”
“No, you wouldn’t have,” Alden argued. “I will not believe that.”
“I would have killed Edmee. I did kill her,” Merton continued.
“You dare bring her name up, here, of all places?” Alden said with a controlled anger. He would have no reminders of his first wife. It was a forbidden subject. A forgotten one. “And you didn’t kill her. She killed herself and the child that she carried.”
The Du Lac Princess: (Book 3 of The Du Lac Chronicles) Page 34